


three times it almost happened - and one time it didn't

by paulmcgann



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcgann/pseuds/paulmcgann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>short and uh... not exactly sweet</p>
            </blockquote>





	three times it almost happened - and one time it didn't

_July 9th_

Today’s been a day for a lot of firsts – first time drinking out with them all after work. First time swearing in front of the team – not just the first letter of a word but the whole glorious “fuck”. First time leaving the sugar out of his coffee. Reid feels hard, he feels rebellious. He downs his pint, liquid confidence flooding his bones. Maybe today can be a first for one more thing. Hotch’s hand brushes his as he slips past on his way to the bar. The older man glances back, their eyes meet – quickly and clumsily – quick and clumsy, everything Reid is and Hotch isn’t. Reid breaks the contact. He realises that this particular first won’t happen tonight, but can’t help replaying the way Hotch’s eyes lingered on his lips.

 

_September 18th_

They’re drinking coffee. It’s become a habit lately, just the two of them. The bitter taste is just starting to settle on Reid’s tongue when he realises Hotch is walking him home. There’s a quiet moment at the front door where Reid mumbles a thank you and wants to turn back and express himself a little more physically – but he forces himself to fit his key into its lock, eliminating all thoughts of the other man’s quiet smile and the hand that lingered on his a little too long when he’d handed over the coffee.

 

_November 23rd_

Reid is tipsy. Everything glows a little. He’s acutely aware of warmth, in particular the warmth of Hotch’s arm pressed against his in the crowded bar. They rise together to leave, their heads fractions apart as they squeeze out of the door, almost chest to chest, each consciously, burningly, aware of the other man’s eyes on his lips. Reid is the first to turn away. His drink may as well have been cyanide; he doubts the pain is dissimilar.

 

_December 9th_

Their eyes meet and Reid can almost feel his heart press against his ribcage with how much he wants to pull Hotch towards him by the tie, pull him in and drag along his bottom lip with his teeth and slip his tongue inside his mouth and just _kiss_ the bastard. The older man nods at him. His nod has become a workplace courtesy, an everyday familiarity. It's lost its warmth and Hotch has lost his soft smile and Reid knows he’s lost his chance.


End file.
